Chapter 13: Hello, World
Sunlight slipped through the venetian blinds and fell across Ethan's face.
He opened his eyes slowly, his mind still foggy from deep sleep.
Three solid hours of rest had washed every emotion away, leaving only a cool, pleasant blankness.
He rolled over, stretched, and let his body unfold in the warm afternoon sun.
That long-lost sense of relaxation spread through him like warm water.
The aches from yesterday's "vigorous activities" had vanished, replaced by a bright, energized feeling throughout his body.
It was the kind of mental clarity the body only grants after true release and total rest.
Eyes half-lidded, he smiled to himself: Man... a guy really shouldn't go that long without. Need to blow off steam regularly.
He drew the curtains back; the sun was almost blinding.
He shook his head and walked into the bathroom.
In the mirror his hair was messy, but his eyes were bright and alert.
He rubbed the back of his neck, checking in on his mental state.
"Feeling damn good."
Hot water cascaded over him in the shower; soap suds slid down his shoulders, and it felt like a complete system reboot.
As his thoughts cleared, he started running financial calculations in his head.
The hundred-thousand-dollar check from John Kramer had been deposited yesterday.
After paying Mary's wages, the medical supply distributor, the electric bill, and the clinic's floor repairs, a little over eighty grand remained.
"Enough for six months of loan payments," he murmured. "Ever since I bought the clinic building on credit, this is the first time I've actually felt flush with cash."
With money in his pocket for once, Ethan decided to tackle the shopping list he'd been ignoring for months.
He left the apartment at one in the afternoon; the weather was perfect.
List in hand, Ethan moved with focused, almost military efficiency.
A quick circuit of his regular stores left him looking—and feeling—completely refreshed.
First, daily essentials: Crest toothpaste, Barbasol shaving cream, Starbucks coffee beans, Tide laundry detergent, and several crisp white Oxford shirts.
Next, the sporting goods section: those worn-out running shoes could finally be retired.
He picked out a Nike training outfit and two new pairs of sneakers—one for running, one for casual wear.
On Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, a massive crowd caught his eye.
People queued around the corner in a line that wrapped the entire city block.
Inside the Apple Store window, a brand-new device played an advertisement on loop.
On the glass display, a short, confident tagline proclaimed: "Today, Apple is going to reinvent the phone."
The screen flashed iconic moments—Marilyn Monroe, Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate, Tom Cruise—each speaking the same word into various telephones throughout history: "Hello."
Black-and-white footage mixed with color; vintage rotary phone rings chimed until a hand lifted a sleek glass rectangle. The screen illuminated with a single glowing word: "Hello."
The image froze; the voiceover declared: "Apple reinvents the phone."
Ethan stared, blinked, then laughed out loud. "So this is 2007. One 'Hello'—six hundred bucks. Steve Jobs is an absolute genius."
He glanced at the impossibly long line, hesitated for half a second, then walked straight over and joined the queue.
An hour later he emerged with two boxes—two first-generation iPhones, one for immediate use, one to keep sealed as a collector's item.
"Keeping it to witness history."
At Best Buy he added several clinic essentials: a window air conditioning unit, a medical-grade sterilizer cabinet, a microwave for the break room, and a new Keurig coffee machine.
At checkout he remembered Caroline's complaint: "Our apartment's literally hotter than Satan's armpit."
Grinning, he added a compact portable AC unit to his cart.
In the delivery address field he left no name—only the girls' Williamsburg apartment address and Max's phone number.
After dinner back home, freshly brewed coffee beside him and World of Warcraft loading on his computer, his new iPhone rang.
The screen lit up with a familiar name: Max.
"Doc."
Max's voice carried its signature lazy, sharp edge. "Did you secretly do something thoughtful and idiotic?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, a grin tugging at his lips. "You'll have to be more specific—my recent streak of doing stupid things is pretty extensive."
"An AC installation company just called me," Max drawled.
"Said someone ordered us a split-system unit and left my contact info.
At first I thought maybe God had finally gotten into the charity business, then I remembered He only sends me collection notices. In all of New York City, you're the only person who'd anonymously ship me cold air."
Ethan chuckled. "Maybe you called out His name so many times last night He got emotionally invested."
"Whether God's touched or not, I know you just didn't want to haul your ass over here to install it yourself," Max snorted—then couldn't suppress a laugh. "But... thanks. When Caroline found out, she looked like she'd won the Powerball—said she can finally sleep without being slow-roasted."
Ethan traced a finger along his coffee mug. "Good. I was genuinely worried about your oven feeling obsolete. At those temperatures you could bake cupcakes directly on the kitchen counter."
"Hey," Max sighed, her voice softening unexpectedly. "Thanks, Ethan. Seriously."
"So does this mean I'm forgiven?"
"Don't get cocky, Doc," she shot back, though warmth crept into her tone. "I've merely decided against lacing your next cupcake with arsenic."
They both laughed.
After a brief pause, Max's voice gentled further. "If you're ever bored and slumming it in Brooklyn, swing by the diner. I'll comp you a cupcake, and Caroline's already promised she'll spring for your coffee."
"That sounds dangerously tempting."
"Keep it professional." Max chuckled. "But... seriously, our door's always open."
Ethan's smile turned genuinely warm. "Then it's a deal. And if you or Caroline are feeling off—sore muscles, headaches, whatever—stop by the clinic. Full professional medical care, completely dependable—and best of all, absolutely free."
"Fair warning," Max stretched out the words playfully, "I'm chronically prone to feeling 'off' in pretty much every conceivable location on my body."
"Guess I'll need to stock up on professional-grade massage oil—and maybe some medical-grade butter while I'm at it."
A beat of silence, then Max's short, bright laugh rang through.
It carried her familiar bite, but also something lighter—something that had been missing for a long time.
"Alright, Doc—looks like we can actually talk to each other again like normal humans."
"Yeah." Ethan gazed at the Manhattan skyline glittering outside his window. "Back to regular, functional human conversation."
"Let's try to keep it that way," Max said, "at least until your inevitable next act of spectacular stupidity."
"Better brace yourself then," Ethan lifted his coffee cup calmly. "My inventory of catastrophically dumb decisions is absolutely massive and constantly being restocked."
"Then I'll be watching closely, Doc."
A soft, genuine laugh, then the quiet click of the line disconnecting.
Ethan set the iPhone down on his desk, leaned back in his chair, and smiled contentedly.
"Guess that's what making peace with your past looks like."
Let's push the story forward! 🔥
Rewards System:
500 Power Stones = New Chapter
10 Reviews = New Chapter
25+ chapters waiting on P3treon – Soulforger